


Bye Baby, Bye

by midearthwritings



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, F/M, Goodbyes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29982834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midearthwritings/pseuds/midearthwritings
Summary: Aragorn leaves, but you cannot go with him.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Reader
Kudos: 6





	Bye Baby, Bye

**Author's Note:**

> A shortie because I was not in the mood to write a long one.  
> Originally published on Tumblr (@midearthwritings)

The wind blows gently, making his hair dance slightly around his face. But you wish it was brutal, and loud enough to cover his words. It is not, sadly, and very clearly you hear him speak his goodbyes. Again, Aragorn will leave. Once more, you will stay back, tortured with worries, and your nights will become sleepless. The ignorance of when he will return, if he ever does, will haunt you. For a second, you wonder if perhaps you were cursed. You will love each other deeply, and truly. Your heart belongs to him, the same way his belongs to you. Only, you will love from afar. Never will you be together for an extended period of time. Why? You do not know.   
Unable to look away, you watch his eyes filled with guilt, a silent apology. For the first time, you doubt his sincerity. Is he truly sorry when he is abandoning you again? How many more times will you have to suffer this regretful stare? You sigh, heavily.

"Will you allow me to accompany you?" There are footsteps, and you listen to them echoing in the halls as they pass by. Aragorn, though, doesn't talk, barely breathe. Wasn't it for the sound of his heartbeat mingling with yours, you would think he is a statue. And through his silence, you hear the answer. The refusal you were expecting, the same one he had given you last time he had left. 

Taking a step forward, the tips of your feet now touching, you let your head fall down. Forehead resting against his shoulder, you shut your eyes. 

"If anything happened to you, I would never forgive myself." He whispers softly, his warm breath hitting your ear. 

"Having to grieve your death would be more painful than dying myself." Beneath your face, his shoulder shifts, and soon you feel his fingers in your hair. A reassuring gesture for you, and the certainty that you are still there for him. Again, you sigh. "Must we always be parted? Do you not feel content by my side?"

At that, he chuckles softly, and you almost feel offended. But you remember that if the Gods decide so, this could be your last moments together. After the Sun rises, the next morning, you might never hear the melody of his laughter ever again. Nor see how his eyes shine under the moonlight. The thought make you pull back, fast and desperate to memorize each detail of his face. He looks at you, questioningly, but you don't say anything. He does not need to know that his death is not the only thing you fear.   
As you paint his face on the walls of your mind, tears flood your eyes and your vision becomes blurry. You cannot see him anymore but you can only guess the look he gives you. His expression almost remains the same. The change is so very subtle but for those who truly know him, the pain and worry are not invisible. His hands come up to cup your cheeks and it is all your heart needs to let the droplets of sadness run down your skin. They are heavy and uncomfortablly warm, and you can still feel them even after he wipes them away with his thumbs. With a swift movement, you find yourself pressed to his chest once again.

"Do not be scared. I promise to come back to you." His voice is low, calm as always. Does he not understand? You crying intensify and you clutch at his garments. 

"Do not promise such things if you cannot do as you say." You mumble, face flat against him. Above you, he lowers his head, pressing his cheek to the top of your hair. 

Perhaps, he will return, well and alive, and your love will be able to flourish and grow, more and more each day until the end of your lives. Maybe he will come back, laying on his back, his sword in hand, ready to be burried and remembered. Or he will not at all. Even the comfort of his arms cannot silence your thoughts, and uncertainty creeps behind you, observing, waiting. 

  
When the Sun rises, the next morning, Aragorn will leave, but you will stay. And every night, until you see him again, you will pray to whoever is listening to let you hear his heart beating for you again.


End file.
